


Volga Boatmen

by srsly_yes



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Deathfic, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-11
Updated: 2009-01-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 13:04:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srsly_yes/pseuds/srsly_yes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ready for a good cry?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Volga Boatmen

**Warning:** Deathfic. Saddest thing I ever wrote.  
**Disclaimer:** Borrowing the characters for a few minutes.  
**Beta:** Heartfelt thanks to [](http://leakey-lover.livejournal.com/profile)[**leakey_lover**](http://leakey-lover.livejournal.com/)  for doing an awesome, last minute check on this impromptu story.  
**A/N: **Inspired by some of the fever fics at sick!wilson fest.

 

.

There was nothing to worry about when Wilson claimed the Volga boatmen were hauling a boat past his bedroom door.

House took it in stride.

Just like the claim earlier that the President was driving past in his car.

Even loaded on painkillers, Wilson wasn’t boring.

The disease that the oncologist had kept at bay and controlled for so many others had roared through his own body like a firestorm, taking everyone by surprise when he collapsed in a hospital corridor.

Guileless brown eyes supported the glib mouth, denying any knowledge that anything was wrong with him.

But House called Princeton General and confirmed his suspicions.

Now he listened patiently as Wilson played spectator to an ongoing parade that marched through his hallway.

When Wilson began waving and crying, saying Amber looked pretty in her pink suit as her bus rolled by, inches from the wood molding, House saw a pattern.

Leaning close to the sunken face, he asked, “Which President did you see earlier?”

“Why, Kennedy, of course.”

The morning sun turned a cold shoulder as afternoon arrived.

House canceled the hospice.

_By nightfall…Well, by nightfall…_

House concentrated on Wilson’s commentary.

Wondering how cancer could suck life so thoroughly from under the papery skeletal hand he held, House listened to more exclamations and tears. “Nana, Andie, look House…There’s Claude Rains and Hitchcock.” Wilson spoke on airless breath.

Countless names continued through the night, “Maria…Oh! Oh! Charlie? I didn’t know…”

House woke with a start as the sun’s rays poured a blessing through the window.

Wilson’s hand still dwelled in his own. He wasn’t expecting it to be warm. The lips were silent. Glassy eyes tracked invisible shadows.

And House finally understood.

When he leaned over Wilson, he kissed his forehead before whispering in his ear, “I’ll be all right.”

One heartbeat later, Wilson closed his eyes.

There was a breeze in a vacuum.

House returned the wave coming from the doorway.

 

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End file.
